


Frustrations Burn Bright

by girlunafraid23



Series: Our Theme Song [12]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, maybe a bit ooc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:14:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlunafraid23/pseuds/girlunafraid23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mickey had been expecting Ian to be stubborn during his physical therapy, but he didn't realize just how stubborn Ian could be. He knew Ian's knee was in a lot of pain and although the therapy was supposed to help it, a lot of the exercises made his knee feel worse. His muscles had to get strong again and just the fact that his muscles weren't strong now, was obviously really bothering Ian."</p>
<p>Their first real fight after Ian starts physical therapy, where Ian finally voices insecurities that Mickey wasn't expecting. Angst, and some fluff.</p>
<p>(I'm sorry I haven't been updating as much, I'll try, I promise.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frustrations Burn Bright

**Author's Note:**

> Don't Give Up On Us by The Maine

Mickey had been expecting Ian to be stubborn during his physical therapy, but he didn't realize just how stubborn Ian could be. He knew Ian's knee was in a lot of pain and although the therapy was supposed to help it, a lot of the exercises made his knee feel worse. His muscles had to get strong again and just the fact that his muscles weren't strong now, was obviously really bothering Ian.

Ian was always pushing himself, which usually resulted in anger and an even worse hurting knee than before. It took everything in Mickey to stay patient, but sometimes he had to take a break. He couldn't watch Ian do this to himself. 

When he got home from work that day, Ian was doing one of the harder exercises and looking completely pained. "Hey Firecrotch, don't strain yourself so much. The physical therapist bitch said to take it easy at first," Mickey told him from the doorway. 

"Yeah, I fucking know, Mickey," Ian said, huffing out his breath as he landed flat on his back on their bedroom floor. Mickey could practically feel him rolling his eyes at him. 

The two of them stayed in silence for a while, while Ian tried to catch his breath. Although it was frustrating having to watch Ian do this, not really being able to help him, Mickey was glad he was home. He'd rather worry about Ian while watching him from the doorway than worry about him and not know if he'd ever come home at all. 

Mickey was startled into reality when Ian let out a noise of frustration. He huffed, his forehead creased and face reddening from embarrassment now. His fingers flexed as he gripped the carpeted floor and he clenched his eyes shut, his head rolling away from Mickey. "I fucking hate this," Ian finally admitted, quietly but his voice was hoarse and full of anger.

It was quiet again, Mickey wasn't sure what he was supposed to say. No shit? Of course he hated this, it was painful and no one wanted to do this and Mickey sure as hell didn't want him to have to, but he did. Apparently, there are consequences for trying to be a hero.

"It doesn't even matter though, does it? None of this fucking matters, because I'm always going to have a fucked up knee and I don't have any other skills that don't have something to do with the army and fuck all if I'm going back to being a cashier at some shitty convenient store," Ian said bitterly. He clicked his tongue before finally rolling his head back to Mickey, glaring at him with a heat Mickey didn't know he had.

He wasn't sure what Ian was going to say next, but he wasn't prepared for what he did say. "You should leave. Not just now, I mean forever. Get out of here before I really lose it, because I know I'm going to. I fucked up my entire life, Mickey. I did it willingly. You shouldn't be stuck with the aftermath of it. So leave, just fucking leave and find someone better, because I can't ever be better."

The air suddenly seemed thick around them. Ian turned his head so he was staring at the ceiling, obvious tears pricking his eyes that he was trying to force away so Mickey couldn't see them. Despite the fact that Mickey had seen him cry, hell, that Ian had seen Mickey cry, neither of them liked crying in front of anyone. 

At first, the only reaction Mickey could get was pure anger. He wanted to rip Ian off the ground and scream in his face that he didn't care. Mickey didn't care if this was it, all he ever got, that he could never be better than what he was now. Because to Mickey that was fucking great, that was better than he ever expected to get and how the hell could Ian not see that? 

"Ian," Mickey spat at him. "You fucking idiot. I'm not leaving and you know it. I wouldn't have been here the time you got back from your first deployment if I didn't think I wanted to be here. You're so fucking stupid sometimes."

Ian scoffed at him, his voice dripping with bitterness, "After my first deployment I came back fine, nothing was different. I know you don't think you deserve better but you do. You deserve better than some fucked up army reject. Damn it, Mickey, why can't you ever just listen to me for once?"

Mickey's blood was boiling at that point. He walked over to stand over Ian, who reluctantly turned his head to look up at him. Mickey's voice was full of venom as he asked, "Do you want me to leave?"

There was a moment of pause while Ian stared up at him with too many emotions running across his face all at once. "I want you to find someone better." 

"I didn't ask that. I asked if you wanted me to leave," Mickey told him, enunciating each word with an impressive force.

He watched Ian's face fall, as he turned his gaze away from Mickey's intense stare-down. Ian huffed and mumbled out a defeated, "No." Mickey's anger dissolved slightly, because a part of him was worried that this was just Ian's way of getting rid of him but feeling less guilty about it. 

After another beat of awkward silence, Mickey sighed and sat down by Ian's feet, ghosting his hand over his injured knee before adding a little pressure. Ian twitched but his face wasn't contorted into pain. He looked slightly relieved as Mickey rolled his fingers against the joint. 

Finally, Mickey spoke again, "Firecrotch, you know this is gonna be hell. You know that. But still, this is it for me. I don't care how long this last until your knee gets better, I didn't leave Chicago with you just so I could fuck off when things got bad. It took how many years for me to accept that we were together?"

"Four," Ian said in a quiet, dejected voice. Mickey scowled at the fact that he had answered his rhetorical question, one that he definitely didn't want to be reminded of, either. "Right, whatever. But still, you think I'd go that long, finally accept us, move to New York with you and stay with you while you were in some fucking war zone, all of this happening over ten years, just so I could leave because now you have a hurt knee?"

Ian sighed, finally sparing a glance at Mickey, "I just hate this, Mick. What if things get really bad and one day you do leave because you don't want to deal with it anymore? The war fucked me up, the way everyone told me it was going to. And I didn't listen and I don't know why I felt like I was doing something, like it was still worth it anyways, because now all I've got to show for it is the fact that I can barely walk."

Mickey ran his thumb across the scar on Ian's knee from where the bullet went in, listening to him talk. Ian hated the scar, like it summed up everything that had happened, proved to him that he was now useless or something. Mickey traced it, pressing down enough for Ian to feel him doing it. 

"I don't care how long it takes, Firecrotch. I'm still not leaving. I spent all this time not knowing if you'd ever fucking come back at all, I'm not leaving now that you are here," Mickey whispered to him, like it was secret that only Ian needed to know. He didn't care if he had to shout it to everyone he knew, he just needed Ian to understand how much he needed him too. 

He heard Ian gulp a little and watch his hands rub at his eyes, which were red rimmed but didn't have any tears falling down. Mickey saw him nod a little before he started to push himself up into sitting position. Mickey kept his hand gripping Ian's knee, while he stared at the wall next to them, looking lost and distressed.

When he did turn to look at Mickey, he had a small smile barely turning up at the corners of his lips, "I guess if I can stick around for four years while you got your head out of your ass, then you can stick around too."

Mickey couldn't help but let out a surprised laugh, "Fuck you, Firecrotch, it wasn't entirely my fault that I didn't want us parading around town, holding hands or some shit. Jesus, man. It's not exactly like you didn't keep yourself occupied whenever I was in juvy."

Ian smirked at him, shoving at his shoulder, "Ah yeah, well, look where I ended up anyways. With some asshole who lied about over-crowding when he actually got out for good behavior."

They stared at each other for a moment before breaking out into laughter. The longer they laughed, the funnier everything seemed to be. They laughed until tears were leaking out of their eyes and they were holding their sides. 

It took a while for it to die down while Ian flopped back down on the ground, still chuckling. "We don't usually laugh like that unless we're stoned."

"Unless you're stoned. You're always fucking laughing when you're stoned," Mickey told him, wiping his eyes, a smirk still placed on his face while he looked over at Ian. 

Ian stuck his tongue out at him, "Yeah, well, at least I'm not super cuddly while I'm stoned." 

Mickey sneered a little at him, which made Ian's smile double. "That only happens when we get really good weed, and fuck you, because you love it so don't give me any of that bullshit."

The two of them spat back and forth at each other, pretending as if either of those faults really bothered the other. When the two of them sat back in a content silence, Mickey couldn't help but break it to answer his own insecurity, "You know I'm not going to leave though, right?"

It was quiet for a while, the air between them full of hopeful promises while Mickey waited for him to answer. Ian finally nodded, more to himself than to Mickey, "Yeah Mick, I know." And that was good enough for Mickey.


End file.
